Better Late Than Never
by CelticFlower
Summary: During World War One, America finally decides that it's time to come help the Allies out. Most are ready to welcome him warmly, but there's one person who's still a bit sore over old scars. And he happens to be the one America had missed the most.


**DISCLAIMER: None of the character's in the following story, the events, the countries, or Hetalia belongs to me. Everything is © Himaruya Hidekaz.**

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**Better Late Than Never**

Francis and Arthur watched as the plane neared the landing area they stood in. Francis's normally flashy, perfect uniform was tattered, and he had scars all over his body. His normally silky hair was knotted and uneven. On their better days, Arthur teased him endlessly for it. Arthur wasn't in better shape, however. His hair was darker with dirt and clung to his face. His clothes hung off of him, he had been eating less and less, rationing for his people. The stress made eating hard anyway.

"…Git's late." Arthur muttered, breaking the silence that had been stretching between the two. Francis glanced at him tiredly.

"He couldn't help it, mon ami. You know very well that we cannot go against our people and superiors." He said soothingly, but this seemed to irritate Arthur.

"Of course I know that! But his bloody superiors _knew_ that they wouldn't be able to keep up the whole 'peace' act for long. They just were bloody _stalling_. They waited until Ivan backed out of the war** (1)**, making us weaker, before lending a hand." Arthur gritted his teeth before whipping around, "I don't feel like seeing that idiot's face right now." He announced, walking off with as much pride as he could muster. Francis watched him go, sadness falling over his features. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, Arthur was limping. He sighed and turned back to the plane, now able to see the blond haired, blue eyed pilot who smiled and waved before bringing his plane down to land.

"You are such a show off, mon cher, even though I cannot deny that that was impressive." Francis's voice was worn and all of the teasing that had once coated his every word was gone as he called up to Alfred, who was just exiting the plane.

"Hahaha, that's 'cause I'm the hero! We're going to win this thing no problem!" He laughed, jumping down and walking up to Francis. Francis's eyes flashed with pain that he wasn't able to hide before giving a small, sad smile.

"I hope so. I really hope so. Heavens knows that Arthur and I are tired of all of this." At the mention of Arthur, Alfred flinched.

"Uh…. Yeah… s-so how is the old man…?" He laughed, though it was awkward.

"He ran off right before you landed. I imagine he's still sore over the Revolution and the War of 1812 **(2)**. He still yells at me when he has the strength over helping you get your independence, though it's been getting less and less recently." Francis said, his eyes shadowed.

"O-oh. How's he… how's he holding up?" Alfred was trying to act like he didn't really care, but his nervous worry was showing through.

"No better or worse than I am, physically at least. Why don't you go speak to him yourself, mon amore? He's probably tired of my company by now." An old spark of life returned to Francis briefly, his tone teasing.

"W-What? No way! You said he didn't want to-"

"I said that's what he _said. _Do you really believe he doesn't miss you? His _little boy_?" Alfred glowered at this.

"I'm not his little boy anymore."

"Ah, that's what you need to show him. You are his ally now, not his colony, not his enemy. You are his equal. Which is why both of you are acting foolish when you try to avoid each other. You can't hide forever, mon ami." Francis smirked slightly, though it was tired. Alfred hesitated for a moment before opening his mouth. Francis merely pointed to Arthur's tent in the very back of the camp before he could speak. Alfred closed his mouth, and nodded before beginning to walk off. He paused and turned around briefly.

"You owe me one. Wish me luck." He said with an unsure grin before turning around again and beginning to jog towards the tent. Even in the growing dark, there was a faint light coming from the inside. Arthur probably had lit a candle, Alfred mused. He paused just outside of it, biting his lip. Like Francis has said, he hadn't personally seen his former caretaker sense the burning of Washington** (3)**. Every other battle or even meeting that took place between Britain and America, Arthur had never showed up. But now here he was, just inside this tent, separating the two with only a thin cloth. But for some reason it seemed more like a steel wall. Alfred didn't know if he was ready for this. Sure, he was ready to fight and defeat the Germans, he was ready to go to war and break his neutral policies, but for some reason he wasn't sure if he could simply walk into a tent to say hi to the person who used to be the most important one in his life, and no matter how much Alfred denied it in his head and out loud, probably still was. In a different way, though. He wondered if that was okay, or would Arthur be disgusted by him? Did Arthur even want to see him…?

"Are you just going to stand out there all day, Frog, or do you actually want something?" An irritated, weary voice called from inside the tent, breaking Alfred out of his trance. Alfred winced; he should have known his shadow was cast in. Arthur thought he was Francis. And Arthur sounded so broken, so tired, so… lifeless. Suddenly determined to stop the war at all costs, Alfred took in a breath and entered the tent. Arthur was sitting on a make-shift bed which was no more than a dirty, old, torn mattress probably donated from someone in the nearby town. A candle flickered on a small box next to the mattress and Arthur was bent over papers; probably war plans, Alfred mused.

"So what do you want?" Arthur asked, not looking up. Alfred sighed; the other man still thought he was Francis.

"I wanted to say hi to you, Arthur." He spoke softly, but Arthur's head whipped up instantly, his eyes wide and his mouth open as if to yell but nothing came out. The two stared at each other for a long time, unsure of what to say.

"…A…Alfred…?" Arthur finally managed. His voice was a higher pitch due to shock and surprise, though it was still laced with weariness.

"That's my name… You didn't forget that I was coming today, did you…?" Alfred's voice was still soft and soothing. Arthur finally regained himself a bit, and he looked at Alfred wearily.

"Where are your manners, boy? Knock before you enter someone's room." He said, finally. Alfred could have laughed with relief and cried in frustration at Arthur's familiar stubbornness.

"How am I supposed to knock on a tent? And you invited me in, you do remember."

"I thought you were the Frog." Arthur huffed slightly, glancing back down at his papers. The next time he spoke, it was quiet and a whisper.

"You're late, you bloody tosser." Alfred smiled softly.

"I know."

"You waited… what were you waiting for? What with the Lusitania and the Zimmerman's note **(4)**, what more did you want?" Arthur sounded almost strangled, and Alfred wanted to hit himself for making Arthur like this.

"I don't know. I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you, you'll see. I'll come in and we'll beat the Central Powers and I'll be the hero and save you and everything will be alright again." He whispered. Arthur made a strangled noise, and Alfred jumped up. Was Arthur… crying?

"Bloody git." Arthur looked up at him, and Alfred sighed in quiet relief. Arthur was laughing. Wait. Arthur was _laughing_?

"W-What's so funny?" Alfred stammered.

"What about Francis? You said you'd 'save me' but what about the Frog? He's the one who's having it bad right now."

"I-I'll save him, too! The hero has to save all the damsels in distress!" Alfred smiled lightly when he heard Arthur laugh harder.

"Oh, so we're damsels now? I have a feeling the Frog wouldn't really protest about that, the tosser." Arthur then wiped his eyes and looked back at the papers, hiding his face.

"…A-Arthur…?" Alfred spoke up after a minute. Arthur hummed to show he was listening, and Alfred was glad Arthur wasn't looking so he couldn't see how red his face was, "U-umm… G-Good to see you again… I… I missed you, y'know…?" He bit his lip and looked away, embarrassed for being the one who finally said what was on both of their minds. He risked a glance back at Arthur to see the other staring intently at his paper, trying to hide his pink cheeks. He failed, though, because even his ears were a light, dusted pink. Alfred restrained himself from laughing; that would only make Arthur think he didn't mean it.

"A-Ah…" Arthur coughed into his hand nervously, "I… I sort of-might have missed you… a little bit… as well. N-nice to see you." Alfred started laughing loudly, flashing his million watt smile and rushing over to wrap Arthur in a tight hug. Arthur bloomed scarlet at this, but he didn't struggle, probably too tired to.

"I'm glad, Arthur! I'm glad!" He exclaimed. After a moment's hesitation, Arthur finally relaxed his tense muscles and leaned into Alfred's embrace, wrapping his arms against the younger nation.

"So am I, Alfred. Better late than never, after all."

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**Author's Note(s): **

Umm, this is my first time posting on this account. I don't really know what this is, I wrote it randomly one day. Sorry if some facts are wrong and what not, I wasn't paying much attention while writing it. I apologize if Arthur's OOC, umm, can I just blame it on weariness?

Anyway...

**(1)**: Most Americans opposed being Allies with Russia in World War One, and America didn't officially join the war until after Russia signed a peace treaty with Germany.

**(2)**: Most of you know this, but in the American Revolution and the War of 1812, America and Britain fought against each other. And England's not exactly _over_ loosing his precious colony yet. (Is he even over it now?)

**(3)**: The Burning of Washington took place during the War of 1812. In my head cannon England and America saw each other there, but after that they both just kept seeing other officials and men instead of the actual person.

**(4)**: The sinking of the Lusitania and the Zimmerman's note are two of the events that lead up to America entering World War One.

....Think that's it.


End file.
